Depth Quotes

Sometimes souls are meant to meet and fleet for they have different contracts to complete.

When all the battles are fought then the biggest battle is, the battle to honour and treasure the hard won victory.

We look into each other's eyes as we shake. His are still full of death and horror, but in them I see my face reflected, and inside my tiny eyes inside his, I think I see some hope.

Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls, must dive below.

True friends are not mirrors where we can always see ourselves reflected in a positive light.

It is a part of probability that many improbabilities will happen.

i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.

Dictionaries stop where the heart starts.

I wish to offer the world more than just beauty and plastic moments. I wish to offer the world depth, conversation, poetry and wisdom. I hope you do not deny me when I open these doors.

Sometimes I think,I need a spare heart to feel all the things I feel.

A small world where people know each other, and still so deep, able to get lost.

To write the poem of the human conscience, were it only of a single man, were it only of the most infamous of men, would be to swallow up all epics in a superior and final epic. The conscience is the chaos of chimeras, of lusts and of temptations, the furnace of dreams, the cave of the ideas which are our shame; it is the pandemonium of sophisms, the battlefield of the passions. At certain hours, penetrate within the livid face of a human being who reflects, and look at what lies behind; look into that soul, look into that obscurity. There, beneath the external silence, there are combats of giants as in Homer, mêlées of dragons and hydras, and clouds of phantoms as in Milton, ghostly labyrinths as in Dante. What a gloom enwraps that infinite which each man bears within himself, and by which he measures in despair the desires of his will, and the actions of his life!

In one creative thought a thousand forgotten nights of love come to life again and fill it with majesty and exaltation. And those who come together in the nights and are entwined in rocking delight perform a solemn task and gather sweetness, depth, and strength for the song of some future poet, who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable.

He is the greatest mystery I had even known, one that always had me craving just a little bit more.

Is the height of my chara joy dependent on the depths of my eucharisteo thanks?

What are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow.What are brief? today and tomorrow.What are frail? spring blossoms and youth.What are deep? the ocean and truth.

You were almost like a haiku: said so little, but meant so much.

The depth of our compassion is proportional to the depth of our living. (65)

Knowledge deepens with experience.

I wonder if ever again Americans can have that experience of returning to a home place so intimately known, profoundly felt, deeply loved, and absolutely submitted to? It is not quite true that you can't go home again. I have done it, coming back here. But it gets less likely. We have had too many divorces, we have consumed too much transportation, we have lived too shallowly in too many places.

Chasms are deceived by rumors of their depth.

We are more than the person who wakes each day. We are the dreams of the previous night and the nightmares of the week before.

Rebecca's eyes were like faith,—"the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Under her delicately etched brows they glowed like two stars, their dancing lights half hidden in lustrous darkness. Their glance was eager and full of interest, yet never satisfied; their steadfast gaze was brilliant and mysterious, and had the effect of looking directly through the obvious to something beyond, in the object, in the landscape, in you. They had never been accounted for, Rebecca's eyes. The school teacher and the minister at Temperance had tried and failed; the young artist who came for the summer to sketch the red barn, the ruined mill, and the bridge ended by giving up all these local beauties and devoting herself to the face of a child,—a small, plain face illuminated by a pair of eyes carrying such messages, such suggestions, such hints of sleeping power and insight, that one never tired of looking into their shining depths, nor of fancying that what one saw there was the reflection of one's own thought.

Heartfelt communicators make such a difference in the lives of others through their authentic depth and sincere expression.

Her eyes were celadon saucers but bottomless, of such great depth that she could take in the knowledge of whole worlds and have room in that gaze for still more.